


How to gently diffuse the bomb

by Pickl3lily



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape, Drabble, Gen, Sherlolly bromance, Sherlolly kiss but no Sherlolly, To emphasise: NO SHERLOLLY!, kidnap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 21:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4851311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pickl3lily/pseuds/Pickl3lily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly had often dreamed about being daringly rescued from her doom by Sherlock and they'd live happily ever after - what happens when he saves her for real?</p><p>OR</p><p>A discussed drabble that I wrote for my amazing friend when I told her my headcanon for how I would gently diffuse this pairing if I had the power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to gently diffuse the bomb

 

 

Molly let a small groan escape her lips as she groggily blinked her eyes open; she blearily wondered how much she’d had to drink the night before to induce such a severe headache, as she sat forwards and raised a hand to her rub over her eyes and pinch the bridge of her nose. She went rigid as she felt the warm, damp _something_ run over her fingers, refusing to be a stereotypical woman who screams and panics before even knowing that… and yeah. That was blood; that was _her_ blood and now she didn’t know how she hadn’t realised sooner that she had a head wound.

But looking around, still trying desperately not to panic, even with her breath coming more and more laboured as she tried to stave off the impending panic attack, she realised that the bleeding wasn’t all she hadn’t noticed. Like, she hadn’t previously realised that the room she was in, was more of a dungeon, the bed she was laying on, was a dingy mattress and the blurrily handsome if psychotic face in the distance wasn’t a painting or photo hanging on the wall, but the man leaning against the closed door to her cell.

She couldn’t help it anymore –she screamed.

 

 

Molly had no idea how long she’d been there, but she hoped that someone had noticed how she hadn’t shown up for work because she didn’t want to spend any longer here. Molly paused her train of thought – had she missed work? Her sense of time was distorted – what if she’d only been here a few hours, a day at most? Had she even been due at work? She couldn’t remember, and with her captor looming slowly nearer, she didn’t really have the inclination to try and remember.

 

The man who had her was an idiot. She usually wasn’t happy when Sherlock chose to use the word to describe others, but considering the terrible week she was having, she thought she would make an exception for herself, just this once. When the week had begun, she had been desperately praying for Sherlock to rescue her, but within a day she decided that she should lower her expectations – the man had already introduced himself, and the basement he had her in, was below the house he owned. In his real name. At Number 200 Bakerstreet. _‘Really’_ Molly couldn’t help thinking bitterly, _‘You couldn’t make this stuff up! What a moron’_. To be honest, Molly couldn’t even gauge how surprised she was that she hadn’t been found sooner, with how completely stupid Steve had been – she remembered how he’d even signed in to visit her at the hospital on the night that he had kidnapped her.

Honestly this kidnapping wasn’t even too bad – she was fed three times a day, allowed her choice in books to read and he even left a television with the entire FRIENDS boxset to watch. It was on the seventh day that Steve had seen on the news that Sherlock Holmes had been made aware that his friend Molly Hooper had been kidnapped and would start investigating that very day.

He had turned frantic, tearing down the basement steps and making her drop the copy of **_How to make a narcissist love you_** in surprise. He’d never been harsh or violent so she hadn’t immediately tried to get away, which she regretted ten seconds later as she screamed for help, trying to push the man off of her as he viciously attempted to rip down her WonderWoman pyjama bottoms.

Less than a minute later, the door of the basement was thrown open again as Sherlock bounded down the steps, having picked up a pipe from God only knows where, and had swung it with enough force to knock the man off of Molly and into unconsciousness before he had fully registered Sherlock’s presence.

 

It had been like something out of a movie – from the kidnap, to the daring rescue, all the way down to how he was holding her shoulders – surprisingly gentle- and they were staring into each-other’s eyes as he tried to assess if she was alright. Deciding that if she were to be rejected that she could blame it on the trauma, Molly leant up and pulled the man into a kiss.

 

And it was… awkward. Her eyes opened as she pulled back, a frown marring her features; this was supposed to be romantic, right? “Would you like to try again?” Sherlock’s offer was spoken softly and awkwardly but, she squared her shoulders and jutted her head in a stilted nod, acquiescing to his offer. She leant in again, and he met her half way this time, even returning the kiss but she couldn’t help opening her eyes and pushing him away, finally realising why it wasn’t given her fireworks.

When she had been nine, her older brother had gotten a part in the school play and she had been helping him rehearse, during the big scene, she had pecked him chastely on the lips, as per her character, but it had felt gross and they hadn’t spoken properly until a month after the play had finished.

“Oh God! You’re Mark!” She moaned pitifully, cradling her head in her hands. Sherlock placed his hand on her shoulder, and tilted her chin upwards, concern in his eyes. “No… Molly, I’m Sherlock – do you remember? Sherlock Holmes. We work together on occasion, I’m - ” She hit his arm, and cut across him then. “No I mean – look. I know who you are; Mark is my brother and I had to kiss him once for a play – don’t give me that look, it was for a second at most, but… it was gross. I couldn’t understand how anyone could turn to incest because it felt so wrong and… that’s what it felt like… kissing, well, you.”

She bit her lip, unable to meet his gaze, looking up sharply when she heard him chuckle softly. “Finally.” He said when their eyes were locked again. “Molly, you were the closest I had to a friend before John – we could have been such better friends but I knew you were a little bit interested and I never thought of you that way. I think I finally know where to put you in my mind palace – with the rest of my crazy family.”

Molly smiled then, even though the awkwardness was still surrounding them, “You know I think that’s the most I’ve heard you speak and you were almost selflessly nice too.” She grinned up at him as they ascended the steps, leaving the police to deal with Steve – when had they gotten there? Sherlock smirked, face and voice smug as he teased “Well, no one would believe it – it is terribly out of character for me, besides which, they’d probably assume its just a fantasy you concocted to get over me.”

Molly laughed at that, producing a snort that was so unattractive that she’d never allowed herself to make it in front of him before and she pushed him as roughly as she did her brothers, whilst retorting in a childishly taunting tone “Brat!”

Laughing harder when he jabbed a finger into the ticklish spot on her side and darting off to hide behind John, who had just arrived and looked astounded to see his best friend acting sop childish and carefree whilst Molly for once didn’t care that her hair was a mess, blood caked in the strands; her pyjamas were dirty and unkempt but her smile was blinding.

“I think I’m going to need some catching up.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really hate any ships, so this isn't written because I'm violently opposed but I can't say I ship it either. I'm sorry if this offends anyone, it wasn't my intention but it had to be written.   
> ANd now it's time for me to celebrate Bilbo and Frodo Baggins' birthday... and my Sister's anniversary...


End file.
